


Tracker

by akire_yta



Series: prompt ficlets [682]
Category: Person of Interest (TV), The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:14:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27322573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akire_yta/pseuds/akire_yta
Summary: trcunning askedFinch's Machine finds the Old Guard. Andy is not happy.
Series: prompt ficlets [682]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/53353
Comments: 4
Kudos: 25





	Tracker

The call made zero sense.

That in itself was not unusual. The Machine whispered in code, trusting the humans to figure it out.

What was unusual was they _all_ got a call. A payphone, a burner, even the phone on the wall of the subway that Finch was certain wasn’t even connected.

Root and Sameen were running down leads. John was somewhere asking questions in a way that Finch found necessarily distasteful. They’d figure it out; they all felt the urgency.

But whatever this was, this was _big._

Footsteps echoed around the stone arch, and Finch barely raised a hand in greeting. “Agent Shaw, I think I have found a fascinating pattern, but it runs back to the paper record, I may need you to-”

A black-gloved hand reached over and pulled a handful of wires, killing the monitors. “You’re the one chasing?” the stranger who was definitely not Sameen Shaw asked, almost disdainfully.

“Technically,” Finch gulped, fighting the urge to glance at the camera in the upper corner of the subway car. “To be honest I’m not quite sure what I’m looking at.”

“Nothing that concerns you.” Her eyes were locked on his.

Finch forced himself to breath steadily and not look at the shadow slinking closer. “But if we’ve been set on you, you need our help,” he continued. It was a white lie, but enough of one to let Root close the open air between cover and target, pouncing without a sound.

Finch was right there and still didn’t see the stranger move. Just a shift of air and Root was dangling, slapping at the hand gripping her throat. “Don’t move,” the stranger said to him almost as an afterthought, walking Root back to slam against the wall. “If I say stop looking, will you take the easy path?”

Root was smiling, even as her breathing grew harsh and laboured. “Give us a reason to.”

Finch knew he couldn’t fight with his fists, that’s what he had John for. But maybe words would be enough. “Something is about to happen. Something enormous. And you are in the middle of it. All the patterns, all the probabilities, they converge on you. I just need to know if you’re the problem, or the victim.”

The stranger blinked, as if she’d never been called _victim_ before. By the way she still had Root pinned, maybe she never had. “I’m not out to pick a fight,” she said like she wasn’t holding Root by the throat.

Before he could answer, there was a light chiming noise. On the opposite wall, a monitor lit up, and Finch forgot everything but what the Machine was trying to say. “Oh,” he said, eyes dancing over the code. He turned back to face the woman. “You’re prey.”

That she took him seriously told Finch far too much. “Who’s hunting?”

Finch stepped aside so she could see the screen. “Everyone.”


End file.
